Tell Me Why
by IndieWrites
Summary: A rolled up math test, and 3 years of constant fights- Serena has had enough. Struggling with a family tragedy, she lashes out at Darien with the ultimate question: Why? Now he must dig deep to discover the answer, and maybe find himself along the way. AU


Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Sailor Moon and her counterparts belong to Naoko Takeuchi. Nor do I own the lyrics to _Shinkirou_. Gorgeous song, though. Look it up!

A/N: This is a 2, possible 3 part fict. No, I haven't abandoned my other ficts by any means. I'm just horribly stuck, and hoping a marathon movie spree with help revive my HP muse. In the mean time, I am branching out into SM. This anime holds a special place in my heart, as it was my very first anime. I remember watching it as a child at my Grammy house, when it was on Saturday morning cartoons.I thought Darien was such a dream...*giggle* Even if he is somewhat useless throughout most of the series. . Honestly... Anyway, I recently began watching them again, and it was during the very first episode that this plot came to mind. I've never understood Darien's reactions to Serena. From the get go, he was a jerk with no real provocation. Hence this story.

A bit of background. I'm deviating from both anime and manga time lines. In this one, Serena is 17 and she and Darien were never together, and have no idea as to the others secret identity. However, this is not a discovery fict. This is meant to explore their relationship and the aspects of Darien and Serena's reactions to each other on a human level, through comfort and realizations. Given the situation, I can't see Serena being the whiny irritating girl she typically is. So if she seems OOC, well... she's older and stressed.

Pairing: Serena/Darien.

Rating: T for some language and hints of adult situations. Don't expect a full out lemon. She's still only 17. And in my country, that's still not legal.

Hope you enjoy. Reviews welcome, Flames not.

* * *

**Tell Me Why -1-**

_So tell me_

_Tell me the reason why_

_How can you do this to me?_

_You break my heart _

_And you make me cry._

_Shinkirou- Loveholic_

To him, it was a normal day, set in his usual routine. He had class, and had picked up a round at the hospital before heading to the Arcade for some late afternoon coffee and his daily dose of Serena baiting. Despite the miserable weather outside, Darien felt well satisfied with his day over all. The rain blew gustily around him and the chill in the air threatened to freeze a person if they stay too long in it, yet his face was etched in a smirk, his dark blue eyes bright.

As the bell rang over the door, his shrewd eyes pinpointed the victim of his sharp tongue. She sat slumped on a stool, one hand delicately resting against a steaming cup, the other fisted against her temple. Her hair, long and golden, was unusually styled in a braid today, the tips of it brushing the floor. It lacked its usual shine, looking somewhat limp and lackluster. Even her clothes were rumpled and spotted with the rain. She looked as if she had just went through a hurricane.

All of this, however, went unnoticed by the sneering gaze of Darien, so intent he was on tormenting his prey. He slid gracefully onto the stool next to her, catching Andrew's eye with a nod and a smug smile. Andrew's eyes widened and he shook his head slightly, in warning. The gesture went unheeded by the dark haired man. He waited a few moments, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, relishing in the warmth seeping from the ceramic. He paused to push his soaked bangs out of his eyes before glancing to the side at his strangely silent companion. Unwilling to waste any more time, he cleared his throat loudly, hoping to catch her eye.

She remained resolutely silent, her downward gaze fastened on her own mug.

A bit put out by her lack of response, he upped his efforts, still ignoring the glares being sent by his best friend. Andrew hated seeing the pair locked in a battle of wills, as he had pointed out several times over the years of their friendship. Still, to Darien, these daily spats with the blonde spitfire were like air. Necessary for his contented living. _Foreplay,_ his mind supplied. He immediately pushed the thought far away. There was no room in his mind for something like that.

"What's got you so down, Meatball Head? Failed another math test, have you? Although I'm not sure you could possibly do worse than a 30," he said nastily, reminding them both of the day they met, three years prior. He waited, counting down in his head to the imminent blow up of Volcano Serena.

_3...2...1..._

Nothing happened, and after a few minutes of waiting, he found himself angered by her refusal to rise to the bait, pretending that he wasn't even there. It was childish, he knew, and yet something in him always responded to her in such a manner. As she remained still, taking a small sip from her mug and placing down gently on the counter, he for the first time noticed how tightly she was clutching the pink cup. Her knuckles were fairly white against the color of the handle. For a moment, he allowed himself the slightest bit of concern for her to filter through him.

It was soon gone, however, and he decided to switch tactics. If her grades couldn't get a reaction out of her, her hair style would. He knew calling her a meatball head would seem silly with her current braid. Instead, he said "didn't you hear me? Or is your braid to tight, stifling what little intelligence you have? How can your family put up with it, I wonder."

The clatter of the coffee pot being slammed on the counter and the gasp of "Darien!" coming from his best friend paled in comparison to the reaction he got from Serena. Her spine stiffened to an almost painful degree, and her shoulders squared, in defense. Her hands, loosening from her grip on her mug, now fisted on the counter top. Slowly, with grace he didn't know she possessed, she slipped off her stool, standing ramrod straight off to the side. Without making eye contact, she whispered one word.

"Why?"

The anguish in her tone shocked him and he sat there uncomprehending for several minutes. Finally he shook his head. "Why what, Meatball Head?"

"Why do you insist on doing this to me everyday? What did I ever do to you to deserve such torment?" she asked quietly. He leaned forward in his seat slightly, trying to catch her eye. She focused her attention on the floor, avoiding his attempts. "I threw a math test over my shoulder 3 years ago, Darien. And it _accidentally_ hit you. It was a math test, a silly piece of paper. But for you, it gave you license to insult my person, my personality and my intelligence. And you haven't stopped since. I don't get it."

Darien sat back quickly, as if struck. His mind spun with her words, surprised at her sudden show of vehement intelligence. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, preventing him from saying anything back to her.

She took his silence as further taunting. "I know you're not like that with others," she continued with her quiet, agonizing voice. "I've seen you around, you know. Seen how you are with other people, even my friends. You treat everyone like they're equals, worthy of your acknowledgement, your praise. _Your friendship._ But not me. No, I'm sub-human, right? Just klutzy, stupid little Meatball Head. So tell me, what did I do to make you despise me so much that you can't even pretend to be civil after 3 years?"

He watched as she trembled violently with emotion, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from shaking, and finally raised her big blue eyes to his darker ones. He was taken aback by the sheer force of feelings swirling in those depths. The fury and utter hopelessness screamed pain, a pain he himself knew and understood. With a shake of her head, she dropped her gaze once more.

"Do me a favor, please, for once. From now on, could you just pretend like you don't know me? Just forget about me. I'm a stranger to you, really. Okay?"

Darien didn't know what to say. Every part of his being shouted at him to decline. To take her in his arms and soothe away her pain. To promise he wouldn't do those things again, that he was sorry for the pain he had unwittingly caused her. But the words wouldn't come, his tongue glued inside his mouth. "I…uh…" he sputtered.

"_Please."_

Faced with her plea, he was powerless to say anything other than "Okay." With a small nod of her head, she dashed out the door, heading into the roaring storm now pounding the city. He watched her go, rooted in his spot, as his heart cracked in half with such force that he clutched a hand to his chest. The sting from a slap upside his head was mild in comparison.

He jerked his head around, his eyes narrowing on his best friend. "What was that for?" he asked, even though he knew he deserved it.

In all their years of friendship, he had never seen that look in Andrew's eyes. The usually passive sandy haired man stood braced against the counter, and suddenly Darien was thankful there was a counter separating them. His eyes flashed with such anger that Darien had to back away.

"Of all the days you would pick to be a complete and utter ass to her, it would be today," Andrew responded, his voice harsh.

Darien's eyes widened at hearing Andrew curse at him. "I wasn't doing anything different that I usually do. She's just being overly sensitive," he replied, attempting to shrug the tenseness of the situation off.

Andrew's hand slammed down on the counter top and Darien jumped. "No, Darien. You went beyond your normal teasing, which admittedly on a good day, is mean. Today, you were brutal. Couldn't you see how terrible she felt today? Couldn't you for once have shown her some compassion? Are you really that much of a bastard?"

"Andrew, I didn't…"

"You're right. You didn't. You didn't stop and think how it would make her feel. You didn't stop to see if she was okay. And you sure as hell didn't treat her like a human being. Especially when she needed it so badly today," Andrew retorted, his voice rising slightly in his anger.

Darien took a deep breath, running a hand through his drying hair. He was surprised to find it shaking. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm not the one you should be telling that to," Andrew countered. "You have no idea what she's going through right now. The last thing she needed was you being you."

Raising his eyes to his friend's, he frown deeply. "What happened, Andrew? What's going on with Serena? You're never this forceful."

"She arrived here only ten minutes before you, dragging herself in from the storm. At first I wasn't sure she even knew where she was, she was just so out of it. And then, when she ordered coffee instead of a milkshake or hot cocoa, I knew something wasn't right." Andrew paused, filling an order.

Darien felt a cold hand seize his heart. As much as he had tried to ignore it, he had to agree with Andrew. She had looked horrible. He recalled her haggard appearance and black smudged eyes. It was due to more than just the stormy weather, he was now sure.

"Anyway," Andrew began again, wiping off the counter slowly. "She sat there, not saying a word, just taking little sips now and then. I finally got her to acknowledge me. She seemed surprised to see me, honestly. I don't think she knew where she'd ended up. She said she had went for a walk, and then the rain started and she came here to get out of the storm. She's been at the hospital all day."

"The hospital?" Darien echoed, alarmed.

"Her little brother is really sick, was admitted last night. Her parents have been out of town 'til this morning. She said they thought it was just a flu bug. But last night he took a turn for the worse. I guess she had to call an ambulance even," Andrew confided quietly.

Darien groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Do they know what he has?" he asked, his words muffled by his hands.

"Spinal Meningitis." Darien's head jerked up, his eyes wide. Andrew nodded dejectedly. "It's pretty bad, I think. She's been there since last night. All alone, I think."

"Damn," Darien swore. With his current studies in medicine and his background knowledge, he understood how deadly the disease could be if not caught in time. "All alone? What about her friends? Raye and Amy and the rest of the girls?"

Andrew shrugged, taking Darien's cold coffee and refreshing it. "Honestly, I think she hasn't even thought to call them yet. She said her mom forced her to leave her brother's side for a bit because she hadn't been away from him since they brought him in. I've never seen her look so tired. And pale. I'm worried. She's going to make herself sick if she keeps this up."

Darien's mind kicked into gear. "Call her friends. I'll go find her. She shouldn't be out in this sort of weather," he said, rising from his seat and grabbing his jacket.

"You sure you should do that?" his friend asked.

Darien paused, looking back over his shoulder. "She can hate me all she wants later. For now, she needs someone who understands. And I do."

Andrew smiled grimly. "Just think about what she said, okay? Figure out why you insist on making a mortal enemy out of someone I think would make a much better friend to you."

Darien bobbed his head once, and then was out the door. He had to find her, for her sake as well as his.

* * *

It was easy to get lost in the rain. Especially when one was as distraught and tired as Serena. After leaving the arcade, she found herself wandering the nearby streets, her mind focused on her brother's condition. She replayed the night's events over and over in her mind, cursing her own helplessness.

_What good is being a super heroine if I can't even save my little brother?_ she wondered miserably.

Heedless of her own circumstances, she stopped on the bridge overlooking the park's lake. Once a place of solace for her, now she only felt distant and damaged in spirit. She had so much power, as the Moon Princess, and yet, could do nothing to help one close to her. The taunts Darien had shot at her day after day played paramount in her tormented mind. Each jab at her usefulness and her lazy habits of yore were pushed to the forefront. His comment about her family circled around, tearing her heart to shreds.

"He's right," she whispered, the noise drown out in the roaring of the wind swirling around her. She was unaware of everything around her, so lost in her own thoughts. Dejectedly, she hung her head, her eyes unfocused on the water below her. Her throat raw, she wanted to scream her frustration and agony into the storm, but could not find the strength to do so. Fists clinched tightly on the top of the rails, she bit into her lip in an effort to stave off what she perceived as a childish show of emotion.

As the rain fell heavier and the roll of distant thunder could be heard, her knees finally buckled, sending the petite blonde crashing to the cobbled path below. The pain from the impact and the scrape of her knees went unregistered in her clouded brain. Squeezing her eyes closed, she pressed one hand to her mouth as a choked sob escaped.

"No. Stop crying," she commanded herself harshly. "I will not cry. I will not cry." Her tears, however proved unable to stop, creating hot trails down her pale cheeks. "Stop crying," she repeated again, pounding her fists into the rough stones below her. The skin on her knuckles broke and bled, but she took no notice of it.

It was there that Darien found her slumped form, her head leaned against a post and her legs tangled beneath her. Quickly, he rushed to her, his legs eating up the ground with long strides. Softly, so as not to startle her, he knelt before her, draping his jacket around her shaking body. He was concerned with her lack of response, her eyes slamming open as she looked up at him with a wet, empty stare.

"Serena?" he questioned quietly, his tone laced with worry.

"I will not cry," she repeated softly.

His worry heightened, he placed his large hands on her shoulders, looking into her haunted gaze. She showed no signs of recognizing him, her bitten lips moving in her repeated mantra.

"Will not cry. Stop crying. Will not cry."

Anxious for her physical and mental wellbeing, he easily lifted the small young woman into his arms and stood. First and foremost, he needed to get them both out of the raging storm. Looking about, he thought of his options. He could back track to the arcade, it was the closest place. However, considering her current state, he didn't want to further embarrass Serena. He was sure when she came to her senses later, she would be mortified enough to know her mortal enemy had found her in this condition.

Her body was beginning to shake violently, her hands clinging white knuckled to his wet shirt, her face buried in the nape of his neck. Her hot breath on his skin was not that of a lover, but rather feverish, shuddering past broken and bleeding lips. He tightened his grasp on his precious burden, and made a decision.

She would hate him later, he knew. But it was the only option, really. With a determined set to his jaw, he set off for his apartment in a hurried clip, wanting to get her out of the drenching weather as soon as possible. With luck, she might come out of this without a horrendous cold.

Not that Serena ever had much luck.

It took only a few minutes for him to reach his building, dashing through the revolving doors and across the lobby. Waiting for the elevator was frustrating, as her shaking became even more pronounced. He wanted to berate her for being so foolish, putting herself in such a harmful predicament, but for once, he understood why.

Her mantra had died down to mere whispers, her harsh breath still hot on his skin. He shivered slightly, the coolness of his wet clothes and the heat of her breath a sharp contrast. Finally, he simply gave up waiting, taking the stairs two at a time in his rush to get to his flat. Stopping at his door, he fumbled a moment with his keys, his hand shaking slightly as he jammed the golden key into the lock and twisted it. Pushing to door open with his shoulder, he entered and kicked it closed behind them. Serena had ceased all comments, instead giving her body over to almost convulsive trembling.

Setting her down gently on his couch, he grabbed several towels from his bathroom, ripping his own sodden shirt from his body and quickly drying himself off. That task done, he strode back to the couch, dropping down on his knees before the blonde. His eyes roved over her body, taking in every detail of her soaked and bedraggled appearance. She huddled shivering inside his jacket, her head hung down low and her teeth abusing her poor lip. Her hands clutched tightly together in her lip, the knuckles scraped, the skin red and crusted with drying blood. Further perusal showed similar cuts on her knees and legs from her earlier fall.

In the past, he would have smirked at her clumsiness. Now, he knew it was not a klutzy movement that had led to her current injuries. No, he reflected as he tenderly began to dry off her face, she had not had a moment like that in quite a while. Gently, he brushed the towel over her cheeks and closed eyes. The touch led her to open her eyes, a hint of life there in those blue depths. Still wet from her tears, she raised her gaze to meet his.

"Darien?" she whispered. He placed a hand under her chin, lifting it as he smoothed the towel across her ears and down her neck. She trembled at the hot touch of his fingers. He maintained eye contact as he removed his jacket and wrapped a dry towel around her shoulders. He then took her injured hands in his, turning them and examining the wounds closer.

"You've hurt your hands," he said. She broke their gaze to look down at them, trying to pull them away from his warm embrace. He held them gently, but with enough pressure to let her know it was useless to struggle. She seemed to understand, going lax on the couch. She fell to the side, her head resting on the arm and her eyes closing again.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"My place," he replied, standing. "Stay there. I'll get some bandages." He paused, looking down at the shivering angel. "Maybe you had better change first."

Her eyes opened wide at his words, and he had to suppress a small chuckle. She looked so innocent there, and yet, with the way her clothes clung to her, she was tempting as a fallen angel could be. Heat stirred in his veins and he quickly looked away.

"You can borrow some of mine. Think you can stand?" he asked, his cheeks slightly red. An answering blush lit her face, staining it an attractive pink. She nodded, pulling herself upright and attempting to gain her feet. Her legs shook as she tried to stand and her knees buckled again. With a cry, she put her hand out to brace herself, only to meet a hard warm arm. Darien shook his head, pulling her to his side and helping her steady her stance.

There was something so familiar about this interaction that both were lost in the sense of déjà vu for a few heartbeats. Blushing hotly, Serena righted herself with a mumble of thanks. Darien wisely held his tongue, helping her walk to his bathroom, where he turned on the shower and pushed her gently towards it. She looked at him with a puzzled expression, a frown marring her beautiful features.

He smiled softly at her. "A warm shower will take away the chill and then I'll bandage those cuts, okay? I'll grab some clothes for you," he said, disappearing and quickly reappearing with a stack of folded clothes in his hands. He set them down on the counter, then gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Go ahead, I'll be in the kitchen when you're down. Just yell when you need me."

She nodded blankly, then turned her back to him, waiting until she heard the click of the door before beginning to undress. Everything felt so surreal to her. She was in the bathroom of the one person she had thought hated her more than anything. She would be using his shower and wearing his clothes. Her fingers ached and she struggled to lift her tired arms to pull her hoodie over her head. Twisting her body slightly, she finally managed to drag the soaked material over her head, her hair tangling around her neck and plastering to her head.

After some painful efforts, she disrobed completely and stepped into the welcoming steamy shower, the hot water stinging her cool flesh. She hissed with discomfort as the drops lanced through the cold, falling in rivets down her body. She stood, aching and quivering, allowing the warmth to seep through her skin and hair. Tipping her head back, she felt the water beat her face and chest, her breaths coming in short gasps as her sorrow overwhelmed her once again. This time, she gave great shuddering sobs, her tears flowing just as hot as the water washing them away. Her throat, still raw, tightened as she softly screamed her agony in her nemesis' shower.

Darien, hearing her cries, leaned against the other side of the door, sinking to the floor and closing his eyes to the anguish he heard in her tone. It was heart breaking, one of the saddest sounds he could recall hearing. The sound of a broken soul, drowning in her grief. He had been so blind, seeing her as the child she was when they had first met. So caught up in his childish game, he had somehow missed the part when the girl had become a woman. Somewhere along the way, Serena grew up. Now Darien found himself desiring her, not only in body, but to learn of her mind, her hopes and dreams. He wanted to know her just as she was.

With a pained look, he realized Andrew had been right all along. He winced as she gave another quiet scream. He knew she was trying to muffle the sounds, probably afraid he would mock her for her display of emotion. After all, he had teased her about being a cry baby before. He banged his head lightly on the door with a frustrated groan. Gods, but he was an idiot. He had so much to make up for.

He sat there until he heard the shower shut off, then pushed himself to his feet and wandered into the kitchen to fix them both some cocoa. Perhaps, through the days events, he could begin to heal the wounds he had inflicted in the past.

* * *

Serena, exhausted, but warmer, pulled back the shower curtain and wrapped a towel around her body, and another around her long hair. Stepping out into the steamy room, she held up the soft long sleeved shirt and track pants. Both would be far too big on her slight frame, but she smiled slightly at the thought behind them. She didn't understand the change of heart Darien had apparently had, but she was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Accepting his kindness, she hoped that maybe they could turn over a new leaf.

Truth be told, she was more than a little envious of the way he acted with her friends. He was friendly, kind and helpful. A person worthy of admiration and love. And yet, with her, he had been the complete and utter opposite. _Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde._ Her question still echoed through her thoughts.

_Why?_

Shaking her head, she quickly slipped on her undies and borrowed clothes. The fabric felt soft against her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself briefly. With a sigh, she opened the door and poked her head out into the hallway.

"Darien?" she questioned.

His head popped up around the corner, a look of concern on his face. He quickly came over to her, looking her over for any sign of discomfort. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded, unwrapping the towel from her hair and combing her hands through the wet tresses. "Yes, better, thank you," she replied.

His expression lightened. He stepped up to her, reaching behind her to grab a comb. Grasping her hand gently, he led her back to the couch. Pushing her down into the cushions, he walked behind her, lifting her hair. With tender strokes, he began to comb out the tangles.

Serena sat stiffly, dumbfounded by his actions. But with each pass of the comb and soothing strokes of his fingers, she relaxed, leaning her head back and letting her hair cascade over the back of the couch. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the pleasant comfort she felt. Quietly they stayed that way for several minutes, allowing the unusual camaraderie to surround them.

Darien watched as Serena let out a sigh. The paleness of her skin had improved since her shower, her skin almost back to her usual healthy color. However, he could still see the deep bruised circles under her eyes and the slight shaking in her limbs. She wasn't out of the woods just yet. There was a chance she could still catch a cold from her time in the rain. Glancing out the windows, he noted that the sky was beginning to darken with the approach of nightfall, the rain still raging against the windows.

"I'm sorry," she said, breaking the silence.

He paused with a frown. "For what?" he inquired, starting his ministrations again.

Serena opened her deep blue eyes and looked up at him. "For causing you so much trouble."

Darien's frown deepened and he shook his head forcefully. "You haven't, Serena. It's no trouble, trust me."

Her brow furrowed and she bit her lower lip again. "You can't tell me this is how you wanted to spend your afternoon. I mean, the last thing you would want is to have to take care of a stupid Meatball Head like me. It's my fault I even ended up in that position. I fell again." She smiled bitterly.

Halting his actions, he put down the comb and shoved his hand gently into her hair, coming around the couch to kneel in front of her again. He ran his fingers through her hair, relishing the way the silky strands felt. She looked at him with her wide eyes before dropping her gaze.

"Look at me," he said. When she refused, he lifted her face with the other hand. "Look at me," he repeated. She did as requested, her eyes haunted again. "I want you to listen to me, got it?" He waited for her nod before continuing. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one in the wrong, here. Have been the one in the wrong for a long time now. You had a point earlier today. I have no right to treat you as I have. And I'm sorry for all the pain I've inflicted on you over the years." His hand reached up and caressed her soft cheek, his eyes boring into hers.

"I've been a cruel and spiteful ass to you. It is completely uncalled for, and I understand why you want me to stay away from you. You have every right to ask that of me." He paused, still holding her gaze. "You're a strong woman, Serena. Expressing your emotions, especially in light of your brother's situation, is perfectly natural. It's okay to cry. It's okay to scream and curse the world right now." He watched as her lower lip trembled and she sunk her teeth into it again. With pain filled eyes, he smoothed his fingers over her lip, tracing the abused flesh.

"Just let it go, Serena."

She struggled against her tears again, seeing the compassion she had longed to see in his dark blues. With a shuddering sob, she collapsed into his arms, his strong embrace holding her tightly to his chest. His lips move over the top of her head, whispering words of comfort as she sought out relief in sharing her agony with another. She could feel her heart and soul being cleansed with each tear soaking into his shirt. It was exactly what she had needed to hear. And knowing it was coming from him of all people… Her heart soared with emotions she had never felt before. His warmth poured into her as he held her.

How long they sat there like that, neither knew. Somehow, she ended up curled in his lap, his hands rubbing her back and stroking her drying hair. His breath fluttered against her temple as he pressed a sweet kiss there. Her eyes slid closed, relishing the feelings of being safe and secure. Eventually, her breathing evened out, and Darien knew she had fallen asleep. He held her for a while longer, loving the feel of her in his arms, trusting him with her pain and consolation. Lifting her in his arms, he walked to his bedroom and laid her upon his bed. Stepping back, he took a few moments to look at her. With her gorgeous golden hair loose and spread behind her, and her skin lit by the back light of the living room, she looked more than ever like an angel.

He felt a tug at his heart, and a warm flutter in his stomach as he gazed on her beauty. She truly was something to cherish. He realized with a start, that that was exactly what he wanted to do. Cherish her. Protect her from ever feeling the pain she had now. Love her as no one else ever had, nor would again.

It was then he came to the amazing realization that he loved her. Andrew's admonition to examine his actions and emotions in regards to the young woman before him had opened his eyes. His taunting of her, his torment of her had masked his own insecurities and doubts. He had shoved his irritation with his own weaknesses off on her, nit-picking at the faults he saw in her. It was no excuse, he knew. He had been simply terrible to her. And he had much to atone for. Yet a glimmer of hope shined bright before him. He would stand with her through this. And when it was over, he would bend over backwards to make sure she understood how sorry he was, and how wonderful he thought she was.

TBC….


End file.
